


The Ocean's Embrace

by ImperatrixFortuna



Series: An Oceanic Romance [1]
Category: Nobilis - Jenna Moran
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Public Sex, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperatrixFortuna/pseuds/ImperatrixFortuna
Summary: The Power of the Ocean goes out to a club to get laid, which both does and doesn't go according to plan.
Series: An Oceanic Romance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155986
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Ocean's Embrace

Annette Hardshore, to whose call the oceans answer, had been in a club a couple of times before, and not enjoyed it. She wasn't the Queen of Salt Waters then, of course, hadn't had her soul wedged open and the Ocean jammed into it, but she didn't think she'd changed that much, and she wasn't quite sure why she was here.

No, that wasn't really true. She was here because she was horny, and she had a nagging feeling that jerking off quietly in her room wasn't really appropriate for a Sovereign Power of the world. She still wasn't really enjoying herself, though. She'd found an empty seat in a corner and hid herself away with a drink that was the best combination of sweet and only mildly alcoholic she could manage, and she was watching the dance floor, trying to sip nonchalantly but aware that she was increasingly hitting despondent instead. Maybe she should've gone somewhere else. She was pretty sure - the Ocean whispered in the back of her mind, and she was uncomfortably, perfectly sure - that there were merpeople with nightclubs, if you knew how to look in the right places. She could've visited one of them, been greeted with hushed awe and murmured deference, awkwardly fumbled her way through 'hello my name is Annette and I will be your queen today, and I would really like a pretty girl or two to hold me down and fuck me silly'... no, that was a bad idea, and thinking about hot mermaids was just making her turned on as well as sad. She shifted uncomfortably and took a larger sip of her drink, and she probably would've gone home and jerked off, appropriate be damned, if someone hadn't picked more or less that moment to start a fight near her.

It wasn't a huge tavern brawl. That wasn't the sort of thing that happened here. It was just two or three drunken idiots swinging at each other for a reason Annette never caught or really cared about. It was sheerest accident that one of them got shoved full-force into the only goddess in the club that night. And that that goddess happened to suffer from an anxiety disorder that was very easily aggravated by sudden touch.

Annette wasn't really aware even of that much. She just knew someone was suddenly crashing into her, and she was panicking. And then the Ocean rose up, and swallowed her whole.

Not literally. It could've, if she'd called it, but it knew her too well to think she'd want that, with all these people here. It swallowed her from inside, instead, rose up in her and made her holy. It whispered to her, _you are ancient_ , _you are mighty_ , _you will outlast kings and empires_ , and she relaxed into it. She closed her eyes with the force of it, with the sudden sensation of being old and vast beyond accounting. It came and went, this feeling, by a schedule she didn't understand, but it was a glorious thing while it lasted. And then she was calm, the force of that sudden impact absorbed like the sea swallowing a stone, and she opened her eyes again and looked around.

The club was looking back at her, in a way she vaguely knew would have been terrifying or mortifying a moment ago. She smiled serenely about at them; smiled, even, at the idiot who'd collapsed on her, who hadn't known that it was her rightful due that he should break himself in his contortions rather than touch her without permission... even him, she smiled at. Why shouldn't she? She was Ocean's-Regal, and she could afford to be generous now and then. She waved him and his friends away, and forgot them as they left; she was considering the crowd, now. Hadn't she come here with a purpose? Here, then - her eye fell on one girl she liked, and she beckoned with a finger. She swayed forward, and the others turned away; if they were disappointed, they knew better than to show it. The girl met the ocean's eyes as she advanced. Annette knew, distantly, that she seemed about her own age, but from the ageless perspective of the ocean that seemed absurd. In another life they might have been equals, but there was no comparison between them now. It took only a flick of Annette's eyes to send the girl to her knees, kissing the feet she'd kicked idly free of her shoes as she surveyed the crowd, and Annette smiled wider. She'd tasted many sorts of power, since she became a god; but this, this was sweeter than them all.

She bent down to cup the girl's chin in one hand, drew her up for a kiss. She watched the girl's eyes close. On a whim, she looked down the girl's past for traces of the sea; they were there, lightly, beach visits and one best-forgotten sailing trip, but this girl wasn't truly hers. She knew that if she let her go, now, she'd make herself a sailor, or a lifeguard, or a dolphin - anything she could to chase this feeling down again. Or with a word she could break her heart, and then she'd find some trackless desert to hide in, and flinch from the sight of open water evermore. She'd leave her mark either way, and once that might have frightened her, but now it only stoked her urges higher.

She was aware that before the Ocean came over her she would never have had the confidence to do what she did next. With her free hand she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down a little. Then she released her supplicant. The girl understood quickly, knelt again, pulled the jeans and underwear down past her waist and to the floor - Annette was happy to comply, lifting herself on her hands and arching a little as the length of her was freed. Her goddess duly undressed, the supplicant leaned forward to worship - lightly at first, little kisses down Annette's shaft, around the insides of her thighs. Some distant human part of her felt she should thrust into the girl's face, or seize her hair and hold her to her work; but why bother? She was the Ocean and the Ocean's queen, and if her worshiper was thorough and patient, willing to take the time to cherish her before - ah! - wrapping her lips around her, it was no matter for the ocean's ancient poise. She shifted only slightly as the girl licked and bobbed, not expert but gloriously, deliciously attentive, so clearly determined that her worship should by dint of deliberate persistence be correct. Annette could feel, not with a Noble's senses but with her human heart, that there was nothing in the world for the girl but Annette's own cock, and that knowledge carried her upwards like a wave until she came in the girl's mouth with a gentle sigh that was the first noise either of them had made.

The girl swallowed what little cum Annette had, then slipped off her cock and kneeled there, eyes closed, for just a moment. Annette watched her, curious what she'd do next, in a distant, inhuman way. Then the girl leaned forward again and lifted up Annette's blouse, starting a gentle trail of kisses up from her crotch across her belly. Again that distant human sense of dissonance - wasn't this the wrong way around for these things? - and again she did not care. She leaned back and undid the buttons of her blouse unhurriedly, let the girl pull herself up slowly as her kisses climbed her goddess's body. She stopped briefly to kiss and suckle at Annette's breasts, first one and then the other, but then she climbed higher, until she was licking at Annette's throat, and grinding against her leg, both of them stretched out on the booth's bench. Annette looked down to meet the girl's eyes, and she was gratified to see no begging there, not even a question, only trust and awe; the Ocean was not to be commanded by hopes and prayers, but she might grant a diligent petitioner's wish all the same, if she were pleased, and Annette was very pleased in that moment. So she rolled herself over, under her petitioner, and raised herself up in invitation.

Strictly, perhaps, they should have used lube, but Annette was adrift enough in the Ocean's embrace that it was easier for her to part like the waves than to waste time in finding any. She inferred rather than saw the girl lifting her short dress and lowering her panties; she felt rather than inferred the barely restrained eagerness with which her supplicant's cock pushed inside her. Like before, the girl was inexpert and determined to go slowly enough to get it right anyway; unlike before, Annette could feel how she wanted this for herself, not just to please her. That was a different sort of power, but Annette found she liked this as well, liked offering herself up like the ocean giving up a good catch or a sunken treasure and feeling her worshiper shake with the joy and anticipation of it. She shifted to find a better angle, and made a soft, encouraging sound; the girl moved faster in response, driving in and out. When she finally came, shuddering, Annette shuddered too in sympathy. The girl pulled out slowly, and Annette slid down, spent, onto the bench.

The ocean's confidence didn't fall away instantly, but it was quick enough for Annette to slip from afterglow to panic almost seamlessly. She turned around to meet the girl's eyes - free now of the deep worshipfulness that the ocean could invoke, but still almost religiously awed, and with, she was thankful to note, no hint of fear or shame or disgust. Annette, on the other hand, had plenty of both shame and fear. Perhaps nobody had noticed? Not likely; ignoring her when the Ocean was on her was like ignoring, well, the ocean. Better to assume someone would be kicking her out any moment. So she gave the girl a slightly apologetic smile, grabbed her jeans from under the table, and called up the ocean a different way altogether.

* * *

It was a little bit of a mystery, later, where the water came from, and how little damage it did to electronics when it filled the whole dance floor to neck-height. For the girl who fucked the Queen of Salt Waters, it was even more mysterious how a freak salt-water flood could write a phone number on the back of her hand. She didn't wonder too loudly about it, though. It was hard to deny a miracle.


End file.
